


Stay Alive

by idreamofignoct



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Just Married, M/M, SEP era, defend gabriel reyes mood is strong here, never insult gabe in jack's hearing, pre fall, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 09:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamofignoct/pseuds/idreamofignoct
Summary: In which Jack struggles to deal with Gabe’s MIA status and has to teach a racist soldier a harsh lesson in being respectful.





	Stay Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Based on events in the RP with my bester husbando. :)

Friday, the mess hall. Soldiers lined up in droves, for today the cafeteria served its famous tacos. In times past, Jack Morrison stood among them, smiling helplessly as Gabriel Reyes, impatience defined, grumbled about the carnitas and how he’d, as he put it, ‘Wreck this fucking place if they’re out again. Only damn thing worth eating here.’ Jack would then secure said carnitas, if only to see Gabe smile- and to keep the mess safe from Gabe’s wrath.

Not today, though. Today, Jack sat alone, the food on his tray cooling as he read over reports of his unit’s latest exercise. At least, he should have been reading over it. The single piece of paper resting beside the pile, its message brief but carrying the impact of a gut punch, took precedence. Jack picked it up again with a shaking hand. He stared at the words, breathing hard, foolishly wishing the message would change.

 **Units dispatched for recon mission departed on time. 72 hours since last communication with Reyes’ team.**

Missing. Gabe was missing. The message didn’t specify this directly, but Jack knew it was true. He felt it in his gut. 

Jack gripped the tags at his throat. Gabe’s tags, given to him their first night in Mexico. The first of two promises they’d exchanged while there. The second circled the finger of his left hand, overhead lighting giving it a sharp, golden glow. It felt cold despite the warmth of his skin, cold from the fear now clawing at his heart. In all the weeks he’d been following Gabe’s activities, there’d always been that dread of losing him, quickly alleviated by the next report. Now there was no follow up to ease his mind. Gabe, his best friend, his rock, his inspiration, his husband of less than two months, gone. Just...gone.

He thought about their last night together, the desperate promise to stay alive echoing in his ears. Gabe’s grim determination to keep that promise. But even as he said the words, the part of Jack not reeling over their separation understood Gabe was realistic enough to know this might not be a promise he could keep. The regret in his eyes had been plain as day. Still, he had gone out of his way to make that night damn memorable.

Jack choked back a painful sound. 

Oh, God- Gabe was _missing._

His hand clenched into a fist. Guilt and anger swelled within him. He was a goddamn fool. The oath to serve had lost its hold on him now that a stronger one took its place, yet he still did not consider leaving, even after Gabe asked it of him. 

What was all the pain and suffering worth, the potential for good work here, when Jack’s anchor, the reason behind his struggles, might be gone for good? He’d have no one to blame but himself.

Jack’s body shook. He dug his fingernails into his palms until they bled. One of the nice little side effects of the injections manifested in extreme physical responses to emotional distress. Jack knew if he didn’t do something about this soon, he’d explode. Fortunately, he had options. SEP might be testing human endurance, but they made sure their subjects had outlets. 

Decided, Jack swept the papers up in one swift motion, stopped by his room to change, then headed for the gym. Once he’d purged this energy from his body, he expected- hoped- the exhaustion would send him into a dead sleep. Allow him to be rational, reasonable, when making queries into the status of Gabe’s unit tomorrow. For now, he had no thought beyond taxing his physical limits.

Jack took to his routine with reckless abandon. When he paused to slurp down some water and catch his breath, he realized he’d unconsciously chosen the machines he and Gabe always used. The dent in the wall was Gabe’s fault. After he’d completed an intense rep of squats, he’d slammed the dumbbell onto the floor so hard, one of the weights popped off and struck the wall. Yet when the officer in charge of the gym questioned it, Jack was quick to take the blame. Disciplinary action included a gruff, ‘Watch the equipment, Morrison,’ and a strict policy regarding personal celebrations. They still laughed about it to this day, though it was Gabe’s smile immediately afterward that stayed with Jack. That conspirator’s smile, edged with affection and gratitude. A smile he’d do anything to see again.

The sound of raucous laughter caught his ear. A trio of soldiers emerged from the training room, towels around their necks and smiles on their faces. Jack secured the cap on his water bottle and started collecting his belongings. He was in no mood to be around others. Especially men he knew had been on training exercises with Gabe. Jack zipped up his well-worn duffel, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the exit. His trek took him past the machines the three soldiers gathered around. He kept his gaze ahead, signaling his wish not to be disturbed. He didn’t have the luxury of Gabe’s reputation to ensure those who saw him would give him a wide berth. He also wasn’t blessed with a default sour expression. And, as one of the soldiers hailed him, Jack regretted this lack even more. He gave the soldier a short nod of acknowledgement and kept going. But the soldier, clearly not taking a hint, called out to him again. 

“Hey, Morrison- have you heard anything about Reyes?”

Jack’s grip tightened on his duffel strap. The question did a hell of a job of bringing all his worry surging back to the surface. It wasn’t the soldier’s fault, but Jack was far from feeling diplomatic.

“Why ask me?” 

“We see you hanging around the CO’s office,” the second soldier said. “We all know how tight you two are. We’re worried about him, too.”

The third soldier gave a sharp laugh at this. “Speak for yourself,” he said, selecting a pair of weights from the rack and setting them on the floor. “Guy’s an asshole. Chewed me out for the tiniest thing last time we worked together. Not too keen on takin’ orders from guys like him, either. Fucking beaner. Should be mowing someone’s lawn, not trusted with running a unit.”

There was a split second of absolute silence, the kind only brought about when someone said something truly, truly stupid. The next thing Jack knew, he was on the ground, the soldier pinned beneath him, the weight pressed to his throat. He stared up at Jack in absolute shock, no doubt understanding both his mistake and Jack’s intent.

Jack loomed over him. “Call him that again,” he said in gravelly tones. The rage had transformed his voice. He applied pressure to the weight, resulting in the soldier gasping for air. 

Hands frantically grabbed at his shoulders. “Whoa! Morrison, calm down, man.”

Jack shook the other soldier off. Glared hard at the man beneath him, taking perverse pleasure in the fear in his eyes. “Go on,” he invited. “Say it. I want to hear you disrespect one of the best damn soldiers here. _Say it._ ” 

The man’s lips trembled. His face paled. Jack was almost certain the guy soiled himself. “…f-fucking beaner…”

Jack’s teeth flashed in a snarl. “Louder.”

“Fucking beaner!” Fear edged his words.

A tense silence passed. The other two soldiers circled them, apprehensive, shocked, by the display. At length, Jack took the weight away. He didn’t let the soldier catch his breath, for he grabbed him by the lower face, fingers digging roughly into the skin. His threat was a whiplash comprised of pure anger. 

“If I ever hear you call him that again, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you say. Do I make myself clear?” 

The man furiously nodded. Disgusted, Jack released him with a curt gesture and stood. His friends were quick to come to his aid. He batted at the proffered arms as he pulled himself to his feet. He did not make eye contact with Jack while he gathered his things and made a hasty retreat. The scent of fear and urine clung to him. One of the soldiers hurried after.

The other soldier looked over at Jack, his expression of incredulity. “Jesus,” he managed, watching as Jack snatched his fallen duffel and arranged it over his shoulder. “I thought Reyes had a temper. Looked like you were gonna crush his throat.”

Jack didn’t admit it was what he wanted to do, more than anything. Instead, he went for a logical answer. “We’re all soldiers here. Can’t have that kind of attitude in our ranks.”

“I get that, but…” The soldier broke off, still in disbelief by what he witnessed. “Shit, Morrison- remind me not to piss you off.”

Jack said nothing. He only nodded and strode off. 

Once back in his room, he showered and changed, then stretched out not on his bunk, but Gabe’s. He’d taken to sleeping in it since Gabe’s departure. Despite his dutifully changing the sheets every day, he was convinced Gabe’s scent lingered. After that scene in the gym, he needed it more than ever.

Jack lay back on the bed he’d shared with his husband for one night, hand over the tags at his throat, fingers running along the raised letters of his husband’s name. Hot tears filled his eyes. 

Outside, the drill sergeant gave the command for lights out. As darkness fell in the room, Jack’s hand tightened around the tags. “Gabe,” he whispered. Weeks’ worth of heartache and worry clung to the name. “Stay alive. Please.”

With that, he sighed and closed his eyes. 

Sleep eluded Jack that night, as it had many nights before it.

Elsewhere in the world, another lay in bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other stroking the name embossed on the tags at his throat. Sleep did not come for him, either.


End file.
